What the DI saw
by skywise012000
Summary: Alex sees something that's private. For Clownish who requested a wank!fic
1. Chapter 1

Title : What the DI saw

Rating : Brown Cortina

Wordcount : 2042

Pairing : Gene/Alex

Disclaimer : Not mine. Never were. Never will be.

A/N : For Sladest who wanted a wank!fic and who is an inspiration to all the Galex Smutresses.

"I'm just going down for breakfast. Are you coming?"

Receiving only a grunt from the sofa, Alex tried again.

"Guv. Breakfast?"

She prodded the slumbering form of her DCI who only groaned dismally and turned over, mashing his face into the padding of the seat. One bleary eye opened and swivelled in her direction.

"Bugger off Bols. Can't you see I'm dying here?"

"You're not dying - you're hung over. Totally self inflicted."

Gene groaned again, closing his eye and pulling the blanket resolutely over his head.

"Have a shower," Alex suggested brightly as she headed towards the door, "It'll make you feel better."

The door slammed behind her and he listened to her footsteps tapping their way down the corridor, heading for the lift.

Gene rolled over onto his back and studied the artex of the ceiling. Three days it had been. Three days stuck in a hotel room with Alex Bloody Drake.

Gene scrubbed his hands over his face and began to swear loudly and fluently.

Why him?

How had they got stuck with minding Sir David Fitzwatson, peer of the realm, chief witness in a murder trial and, according to Gene, all around lazy no-good pompous arsewipe.

In all fairness, Gene had done his damndest to get himself out of this situation, even going so far as to remind in the Chief Super that "Gene Hunt is not a bastard babysitter." Unfortunately, the Super had decided that Gene was, in fact, the perfect babysitter for this particular witness and had packed him off to the Four Seasons in Windsor, airily reminding him to pack a decent dinner suit and not to put too much alcohol on his expenses claim.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. The last thing he'd wanted was to spent a week making polite conversation with an upper class twit. It had seemed only logical that he bring Alex along - she'd be able to talk about ballet and opera and Chelsea bloody Flower Show, or whatever else the posh bugger wanted to talk about, leaving him free to sit by the bar and drink himself into happy oblivion at the expense of the taxpayer.

It had been such a _good_ plan and it had all been going so well until they'd arrived at the hotel to be told that there had been a mistake in the bookings and that, as the Horse Trials were taking place that week, there were no spare rooms and they would have to share.

Since then his life had been sheer bloody misery.

As soon as they walked through the door, Alex had announced that she desperately needed a shower, being tired and dusty from the journey, and had disappeared into the en-suite. He'd shouted after her that they'd only travelled about 20 miles and that she should stop being such a girl. After that he sprawled lazily on the bed and lit a fag while he ran his eye over the room service menu.

Just as he began to read through the list of single malts that were available for his delectation, the shower started. The sound of running water pulled his attention away from the bar list and his imagination went into overdrive at the thought of a wet, naked, soapy, slithery Alex Drake not five feet from where he was sitting. All the blood in his body had rushed south and had remained there ever since.

He'd been walking around with a hard on for the past three days and it was definitely getting to be past a joke.

Three days of watching her prance around in a white towelling robe, smelling of soap and shampoo.

Three days of seeing her underwear draped around the room, tiny scraps of almost-not-there lace lying around, taunting him.

Three nights of listening to her sleep, her soft steady breathing interrupted by snuffly little snores, seeing the cotton sheets moulding around her form.

Three nights of trying to sleep on the bloody sofa, twisted up in pyjamas, feet hanging over the end, lying awake and praying for the strength to stay where he was.

Three days and nights of wanting, wanting, wanting.

Enough was enough. He had to do something about this now or he'd end up in a bloody medical textbook - the worst cast of blue balls ever known to medical science.

"Time to take yourself in hand, Genie-boy." He muttered as he manfully pulled himself up off the sofa and padded into the bathroom.

The atmosphere in the bathroom was still warm and steamy, mute testament to the fact that Alex had, not 15 minutes ago, been fannying about in there, the air softly scented with a mixture of shower gel, body lotion and hairspray. Gene breathed in deeply. Warm smells, female smells, Alex smells. His body twitched appreciatively and he quickly shed his pyjamas ('_Pyjamas! When had Gene Hunt ever worn pyjamas?' ) _wanting to feel the perfumed steam on his skin.

His hand reached out and hit the button, sending a hot spray of water against the glass of the shower cubicle, ready for him to step into as soon as he'd finished his other business.

He took another breath of Alex flavoured air and allowed visions of her to fill his mind - all the momentary glimpses of her that he accumulated over the past few days - _seeing her through the bathroom door wearing nothing but a towel, her hair wet and hanging in twisting ropes across her shoulders; her turning over in bed, the sheets falling down to allow him sight of the white skin of her back; one perfectly turned leg stretched out in front of her as she carefully rolled on a stocking, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips as she concentrated._

He sighed softly, his hand drifting down across chest, gliding across his stomach and settling on his straining cock. He bit back a moan as he brushed his hand across the tip where luminescent beads of arousal were already starting to gather.

Spreading the lubrication around the sensitive head he held himself lightly, just his thumb and forefinger wrapped around his girth, his hand moving quickly as he teased himself, the gentle strokes enough to drive him insane but not enough to drive him over the edge. His breath came faster as he drew out each sensation, trembling, holding himself in check, knowing that the more he made himself work for it, the better it would be. And he had time, Alex always forever over breakfast. He had all the time he wanted.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip as his head tipped back and his eyes fluttered closed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I'm sorry Madam, but the dining room is currently fully occupied. Would it be possible for you to return in, say, an hour?"

"Yes, of course. But could you arrange for a tray of coffee to be sent to my room while I wait? Room 714."

"Certainly Madam. And thank you for your patience."

"It's quite alright. I can see how busy you are."

Alex turned and headed back for the lift. Well, an hour wasn't too long , and she could always have some more fun torturing Gene about his hangover while she was waiting. There were worse ways to while away an hour than to see how quickly she could drive him to screaming pitch.

With a happy little smile on her face, she trotted back to the lift and set off back to their room.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As soon as she opened the door, Alex came to a grinding halt.

Her brain yammered at her that this was not good. This was private. She should turn around and walk away now. Go. Now. Don't stay. Don't watch. Bad Alex. Naughty, wicked Alex. Bad. Bad. Not Good. Oh. Fuck. Yes!

All she could see was Gene. Lots of Gene. Lots of very naked Gene.

Standing in the middle of the en-suite, he was facing away from her.

His head was thrown back and his dark blonde hair, made damp and spikey by the steam, was just brushing against his shoulders. His unexpectedly broad shoulders. She'd always admired the way his coat fell down from those shoulders but - Good Grief! - she'd had no idea how wide they really were.

Alex allowed her gaze to wander across all that lightly bronzed skin before moving on down across his back which tapered, _deliciously by the way,_ to his buttocks. My, my, didn't Gene have quite an arse on him. An arse which was, as she watched, flexing in a very interesting way, causing him to strain and release, strain and release, strain and release . . . . . .

It was, she thought, quite possibly the most erotic thing she'd ever seen. His thigh muscles bunched as his hips bucked. Now, if he would just turn around . . . . .

As if sensing her thoughts, he shifted slightly, turning to lean against the tiled wall of the bathroom, and all of Alex's breath left her body.

He had one hand cupping his balls alternately squeezing and stretching, his fingers sliding around and down, reaching further back to stroke the sensitive skin between his legs. The other hand was moving smoothly and rhythmically, the fingers tightening around his cock as he drove himself closer towards oblivion.

Alex devoured him with her eyes. He was so lost in the moment. So desperate. So . . . . beautiful.

He gaze flickered up to his face. His eyes were tightly closed, his eyelashes fluttering and his lips were parted, teeth sunk into his lower lip only allowing the softest of sighs and moans to break through. As she watched, though, his mouth fell open, his lips for once soft, parted, begging to be kissed.

And, oh, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to be the one to make him buck and sigh. She wanted to run her hands over the hard muscle of his back and the soft roundness of his belly. She wanted to hold his hot, hard cock in her hand, to caress his balls and, maybe, to touch parts of him that no-one else had _ever_ touched; between his legs, his arse, find his prostate, touch him, make him writhe and beg before driving him to scream her name out as he came, harder than he'd ever come before.

She wondered, briefly, who he was thinking of, whose body he was imagining underneath him. What woman could drive him to such heights. _No, don't think of that. Masochist._

Gene breathed harder, his hand moving faster, holding tighter. He was lost in arousal, his hips bucking and thrusting against a phantom lover. A whimper left his mouth and Alex strained to hear.

_"Alex - please."_

She gasped in surprise, liquid warmth flooding from her as he gasped out her name in ecstasy.

As her name left his lips his body tightened, every muscle straining, reaching for release. His hand was a blur on his erect cock, squeezing cruelly as he stuttered out his need. _"Fuck - Alex - Yes - Alex. YESSSSSSSS!"_.

He came with a roar, ropes of liquid silk lacing his stomach while his hips bucked uncontrollably. His head flew back, crashing against the wall, a supernova exploding behind his eyes as he was, finally, released.

Alex watched, hypnotised, as Gene exploded, her name screaming from his lips. Her knees buckled, her breasts aching with want and her head ringing with the sound of his cries.

Allowing herself just one glance at his body, now collapsed against the wall, replete and relaxed, she ducked out of the bathroom and threw herself through the bedroom door into the impersonal corridor beyond.

Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, head in hands, trying to make sense of what she seen, what she'd felt as she'd watched him.

Her body shook with arousal yet a faint smile painted itself across her lips.

Four days.

They had four days left - and four whole nights . . . . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rating : Brown Cortina (for the secksi bits)

Pairing : Gene/Alex

Word Count : 2,000 approx

Disclaimer : The characters are not mine, they belong to the nice people at Kudos. The fevered imaginings are, I'm ashamed to say, mine. Please don't tell my Mum

A/N : For those of you who might be wondering, there is no plot whatsoever in this fic. You won't find out anything about Sir David Fitzwatson or the case in which he is chief witness. There will be no blags, shootings, getaways, car chases, character development, interesting investigative techniques, deaths or, indeed, anything at all that has any literary merit whatsoever. I just needed an excuse to get them into a hotel room together.

Big sloppy kisses to funkygibbon for the lightening fast beta and words of encouragement.

It was an hour later that Gene walked through the doors of the dining room.

Alex's breath caught in her throat as he made his way towards her table. She'd never seen him dressed in anything other than his trademark grey suits but this morning he'd encased his impossibly long legs in faded denim, his torso in a dark blue Watson's Heavy tee shirt. Alex could feel herself drooling as she allowed her eyes to wander up his body, lingering for a moment on the junction of his thighs before moving up to his face. His hair was still spikey-damp from the shower, one lock falling across his face giving him an incongruously innocent, little boy look.

Although she was intent on watching him walk towards her, Alex could see from the corners of her eyes that nearly every female head in the room turned to watch him stalk towards her table and she couldn't help the smug feeling she got from knowing that they were, all of them, jealous as cats in heat that she was the one who would get to eat breakfast with him.

Gene was, of course, blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on the women in general and Alex in particular. He was feeling more relaxed than he had done in days, well, weeks really. A wank, a shit, a shower and a shave and he was feeling on top of the world. Plus, it was Saturday and there was football on the telly this afternoon so he'd pulled rank on Ray and Chris giving himself a few hours off the babysitting duty to watch the game. All in all, Gene Hunt was a very happy man.

"Morning Bolly" he greeted her cheerfully.

"Ah hum" she managed to reply, desperately trying to stop the red tinge that she knew was creeping up her neck towards her face.

Gene raised a quizzical eyebrow at her and picked up the breakfast menu. A waitress skidded to his side to take his order.

"Morning love. I'll have the full English - beans not tomatoes - extra black pudding and toast."

"Certainly Sir. Would you like tea or coffee with that?"

"Tea please love. I've 'ad enough coffee this morning already ta."

The waitress simpered at him and scampered off towards the kitchen.

"'S a good hotel this Bolly," Gene commented. "They deliver coffee to your room without you even having to ask. That's what I call service."

Alex just nodded and tried to tear her eyes away from his hand which was currently resting innocently enough on the pristine white tablecloth but which, in her head, was wrapped tightly around his cock moving quickly and knowingly, driving himself towards release as his eyes closed and his lips parted in helpless abandon.

She swallowed and shook her head slightly to rid herself of the image.

".......... tonight?"

"Sorry? What did you say?"

Alex was dimly aware that he had been speaking to her but hadn't heard a single word that he'd said. All she'd heard was _"Fuck - Alex - Yes - Alex. YESSSSSSSS!"_.

Gene sighed irritably. What the hell was wrong with her this morning? "For God's sake woman. I asked whether you'd spoken to His Twatship yet. Does he want to go to this friggin' dance tonight?"

She shook her head slightly in apology. "No, not yet. I'll speak to him later. That reminds me, have you got anything decent to wear in case he _does_ want to go? It'll be black tie and we'll need to dress appropriately if we have to go."

"Well, I hope to hell he doesn't want to. I 'ate getting dressed up like a dog's dinner and poncing about making small talk." His eyes twinkled at her as he added, "Although - you all dressed up in something swanky . . . ." his voice trailed off and he waggled a suggestive eyebrow at her. Alex felt the pink tinge start to spread across her nose and cheeks, heading for her ears.

Just then Gene's breakfast arrived and he began to wrap himself around it enthusiastically while the waitress openly stared at him with an approving glint in her eye. Alex sat back and watched him eat, desperately trying to alter her train of thought. _"What are you doing?"_ she asked herself and repeated what had become her daily mantra _"This is Gene Hunt. You do not fancy Gene Hunt. You do not want to shag Gene Hunt."_

The unfortunate truth, however, was that as much as she tried to tell herself she didn't want him, the warm tide that had spread through her body as she'd watched him in the en suite wasn't dissipating, it was merely banking down, burning more quietly but just as hot. An insistent pulse beat between her legs, demanding attention and she wanted nothing more than to get her hands on him; drag him out of the dining room, up to the bedroom, throw him down on the bed and ravish him, make him writhe and beg before taking him inside her and shagging him into oblivion.

The throbbing between her legs thought that this was a brilliant idea and proceeded to give instructions as to how this could be achieved. In no time at all, Alex found herself rehearsing her lines :

_Look,Gene - sorry to bring this up while you're eating, but the thing is I was watching you wanking earlier and it turned me on something rotten. I was just wondering if you would mind sorting me out as well since, by the way you screamed my name as you were coming, it was obviously me you were thinking of when you had your hand on your cock and it's been ages since I had a good seeing to._

Yeah, brilliant Alex. Very subtle.

The throbbing didn't particularly care about subtle, or embarrassment, it only cared about getting seen to. As quickly as possible.

"I'll - er- just pop up and see Sir David then shall I?" she muttered, throwing her napkin onto the table and rising from her chair.

""Yeah. Mmmm" he replied, waving his fork at her in dismissal as he settled into the serious business of polishing off his black pudding.

Alex all but ran from the dining room, desperate to put some distance between herself and the almost overwhelming temptation that was currently licking some stray tomato sauce off his fingers. A soft whimper escaped her as she watched him slowly and thoroughly clean his fingers, his tongue wrapping around each digit, lapping gently at the sauce and then slowly sucking each finger into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly with the suction.

The throbbing thought that this was excellent entertainment and she was forced to give her libido a good talking to before she managed to tear her eyes away from him. _This is getting ridiculous_ she told herself sternly as she moved quickly across the foyer to the sanctuary of the lift.

By the time she'd reached the 7th floor she'd managed to compose herself enough so that she was able to chat to Sir David with barely a tremor in her voice or a flush on her skin.

Sir David said that he certainly did want to go to the Horse Trials Ball that evening and she spent a few minutes with him making small talk about who would be there and reminding him not to leave his suite without a suitable police escort before excusing herself and headed back to her room, now desperate for some time alone to think.

Going back to the room was a mistake and Alex realised it as soon as she walked through the door.

Housekeeping hadn't yet been up to make up the bed and clean the bathroom, so she was met by the sight of rumpled bedlinen and the subtle scent of soap and Old Spice still drifting through the air.

Her stomach turned over and the throbbing leapt up another gear, now turning into an actual ache. She sank onto the sofa with a despairing groan, rolling over onto her side and covering her face with her hands only to find that she'd made yet another mistake.

The blankets Gene had slept in the night before were still draped over the sofa cushions and, _Oh God!_ she could still smell him on them. Pressing her face into the sheets she inhaled deeply.

_Why did he have to smell so damn good?_ she wondered miserably. He was everything she didn't want in a man - moody, overbearing, shouty and arrogant. So why did she turn into a puddle of goo every time she was near him? Why did just the scent of him make her want to run her bra up a flagpole, drop to her knees in front of him and beg?

And why was he the reason she had to keep changing her knickers on such a regular basis? She'd even taken to carrying a clean pair around with her - just in case one of his growls, or a twinkly blue eye set her off again.

She stretched her legs out and lay prone on the sofa, eyes closed and surrounded by the scent of Gene. Almost without realising it, she began absently stroking her face and neck with the sheet, imprinting him on her skin. If she couldn't have the real thing then at least she could spend the day with his scent all over her.

Behind her closed eyes, she pictured him again as she'd seen him that morning, lingering over every tiny detail of his body; his incredible legs, so long and well shaped; his arse, round, tight and flexing as he helplessly thrust into his hand; his back and broad shoulders, rigid with tension, rolling with the rapid strokes of his hips. And then he'd turned around . . .

She felt a fresh surge of wetness between her legs as she recalled feasting her eyes on him, one of his hands stretching and fondling his heavy, full balls, kneading and caressing them, the other stroking his straining cock, gliding over the silky skin, smearing his natural lubricant over his length, the little twist of his wrist on the upstroke which made him writhe and moan.

Oh well, there was nothing else for it, she was too far gone to stop now.

Alex's hand made quick work of the button and zip on her jeans, sliding down to her wet, overheated folds, fingers flickering deftly across her clit, instinctively finding the right rhythm. Her other hand reached into her blouse, pinching and pulling her her nipple. Her arousal was shockingly intense, driven upwards by her fevered recollections, bringing her almost painfully quickly to the point of no return.

Her mind's eye roved over his body, remembering his shallow, panted breaths; his head falling back, soft hair brushing against his shoulders; his mouth falling open into a helpless "O" of pleasure; his entire body stilling, rigid and tense before he came, violently, her name drawn breathlessly from his lips, hips bucking and twisting uncontrollably . . . .

_"Oh . . bloody . . .fuckin' hell . . . GENE!"_

Alex crashed into orgasm, freefalling with red stars flashing behind her eyes - finally, blessedly released.

For a while she could do nothing but lie there, one hand shoved awkwardly down the front of her jeans, her wrist starting to ache with the unnatural angle, the other tangled in her bra, her breath rasping in and out of her as her heartbeat finally slowed back to normal.

She didn't hear the soft closing of the door or the unsteady footsteps making their way back down the corridor . . . .

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

By the time he reached the lobby, Gene had recovered somewhat from the unexpected sight of Alex wrapped up in his sheets with her hand shoved down her trousers. The old mighty engine was now working overtime, planning his seduction of his DI like a military campaign.

At least now he knew he had a chance with her. More than a chance if what he'd just seen had been real and not the product of his filthy subconscious. He paused, replaying the scene over in his mind. . . . No. He'd definitely seen what he thought he'd seen, heard what he thought he'd heard, and a wide smile forced itself over his face, momentarily stunning a horse-faced, middle aged lady who was sitting innocently on a sofa drinking tea.

An answering smile made its way hesitantly over her face and Gene magnanimously tipped her a wink causing her hand to shake and spill tea over her tweed skirt.

Leaving her dabbing her skirt with a napkin and whistling cheerfully to himself, Gene made his way over to the reception desk and demanded a telephone.

"Wot?"

Ray's voice snapped harshly down the phone line.

"Change of plan Raymondo. You and the div won't be needed this afternoon. Make it tonight instead."

"Aww, Guv!" Ray's disappointment was almost tangible. "I've got a date tonight and Chris is taking Shaz out. C'mon Guv." Ray wheedled.

"No. Cancel it. Your country needs you. Be here at 7.30 sharp."

"Yes Guv."

Gene could almost hear Ray muttering to himself under his breath as the receiver was slammed down.

Right, phase one was complete, he'd got himself and Bolly out of babysitting duties for tonight, now all he had to do was make sure he didn't get pissed this afternoon and get his dinner suit pressed. Shouldn't be too difficult he thought as he wandered off to buy a paper, preparing to sit in the hotel gardens and enjoy the rare winter sunshine until the footie started.

*************************

Upstairs, Alex roused herself out of her post-orgasmic lethargy and stumbled into the en suite for her second shower of the day.

Towelling herself off she wandered back into the bedroom and searched through her clothes, trying to find something suitable to wear for a ball. Nope. As she'd thought, she'd only bought work clothes and a cocktail dress. Nothing she could wear to a full on black tie do and that meant she absolutely had to go shopping. And get her nails done. And book a hair appointment.

She was determined that tonight she'd trap him, back him into a corner and give no absolutely no room for manoeuvre. It was the perfect setting for a seduction - a nice hotel, both of them done up to the nines, booze flowing. . .

Then she remembered - they were going to be on duty. The selfish sod had arranged cover for this afternoon so that he could watch the match. Well, she could soon fix that.

Digging through her handbag, Alex pulled out her Filofax and, after looking through it, quickly dialed the number she needed.

"Wot?"

Chris's voice was sleepy, as if he'd just woken up.

"Chris, it's DI Drake. There's been a bit of a change of plan for today. Could you round up DS Carling and take over from us tonight instead of this afternoon?"

"Awww. Boss - Ma'am. I promised I'd take Shazzer out tonight and I think Ray's got a date."

"Can't be helped I'm afraid, Chris. I know it's terribly short notice but, you know, the job's not exactly nine to five is it? It's very important that you and Ray are here tonight instead of this afternoon. I don't want to make it an order but . . ." her voice trailed off leaving Chris in no doubt at all that he really had no choice in the matter.

"What time Ma'am?"

"7.30 would be fine. Thanks Chris"

"Yeah, 'kay" and Chris hung up.

Alex quickly threw on her clothes and grabbed her bag. On her way out of the room she glanced at herself in the mirror and grinned.

The poor man didn't stand a chance!

Gene spent the rest of the morning sitting in hotel lounge, reading his paper, it being a bit too cold to sit in the January wind for too long. Alex wandered out to tell him that she was going shopping for a few hours and would he mind their charge while she was out. Gene huffed his agreement and surreptitiously watched her arse wiggling away from him as she left the hotel.

He met Sir David for lunch and was invited to his suite to get ready that evening.

"We've got to give the lady her privacy don't we, Old Boy? Just pop over at 6.30ish with your DJ and we can go and fetch your charming Detective Inspector together. Give her a proper escort to the ball."

Gene agreed, somewhat reluctantly because he'd been looking forward to watching Bolly getting ready, but could see the sense in what His Nibs was saying.

"So," the peer continued, "what have you got planned for us for the rest of the day?"

"The Arsenal -City game."

Sir David looked a bit pained.

"Soccer?"

"Football." Gene corrected.

"You might have a bit of a problem there, Old Boy, I don't think they'll be showing the football this afternoon. I think they'll probably be showing the rugby.

Gene spluttered in outrage while Sir David tried to mollify him.

"It's an international you see - Wales -v- England down in Cardiff. It's a very important game."

"Not to me it bloody isn't."

Gene ranted for a while about upper class twits playing with their odd shaped balls, Sir David shrugging helplessly, before he reluctantly allowed himself to be taken to the bar to watch this alien spectacle for the rest of the afternoon.

**************************************

Alex spent a happy few hours investigating the dress shops of Windsor, finally finding her dress in a tiny shop down a lane in the town centre. The two little old ladies who ran the shop fussed over her delightfully, pulling out gown after gown until she, and they, finally decided on the perfect frock, after which they ran around with pins and threaded needles until the gown fitted her like a second skin. This meant that she arrived back at the hotel late, well gone 6 o'clock, giving her just over an hour to ready her artillery for the evening's festivities.

The knock on her door came at just gone 7.30 and she took a last look in the mirror before sashaying towards the door. Prepare to be dazzled M'sieur Hunt she thought as she threw the door open wide.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Gene standing on the other side of the door, just Sir David.

"So sorry my dear," he said, "but Mr Hunt has had to toddle down to the lobby to meet my security detail." He paused to take in her appearance. "My word, you look stunning, my dear. May I escort you to the ball?"

"Thank you." Alex smiled gracefully and took his arm, unable to dispel the twinge of disappointment that Gene hadn't come to fetch her himself but managing to put a brave face on it and carry on her share of the conversation as they took the lift downstairs.

When the lift doors swished open, Alex found herself transported to a fairyland.

The lobby had been strung with twinkling lights and was full of elegant patrons dressed up to the nines and mingling sociably as they handed wraps and overcoats to the coat-check girls and sipped champagne cocktails, chatting amiably before drifting into the hotel ballroom.

The strains of Glen Miller's classic "String of Pearls" filled the air and she took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter as she looked around for Gene.

He was standing over by the reception desk, speaking earnestly and rapidly to Ray and Chris. She began to move towards them, making her way through the crowd, smiling and nodding at the complete strangers she encountered on the way, her arm still laced through Sir David's.

Gene was totally engrossed in what he was saying and didn't notice her until she was more than half way towards him, giving her plenty of opportunity to feast her eyes on him. He was wearing a three piece dinner suit, the waistcoat done up over a pristine white shirt, the jacket moulding to his shoulders and waist as if it had been painted onto him. Alex let out a silent sigh as she glided up to stand behind Ray.

Gene ended his conversation abruptly when he caught sight of Alex making her way towards him. His mouth went suddenly dry and he swallowed convulsively, trying to tear his eyes away from the way her black dress clung to her body, falling from one shoulder to gather at her hip before falling in whisper soft folds to the floor. A silent voice in his mind growled "Mine" and he he felt a primal need to mark her somehow, brand her as his. He needed to find some way to show every other man in the room that she was taken, off limits; that any man who so much as looked at her was aiming for a short, sharp reminder to keep his eyes to himself.

His eyes roved her body, trying to find some tiny flaw, some excuse to touch her, finish her, get his scent onto her.

"Very nice, Bolly" he growled. "Very nice indeed. 'Cept this."

He reached out and tapped the row of heavy black beads around her neck.

"Don't like that - makes you look cheap. Tacky."

Alex opened her mouth to protest but fell silent as he reached forward, his hands brushing the skin of her throat and around her neck, unfastening her necklace and pulling the beads away from her to deposit them in his pocket. She stared at him, unable to move, as he reached back behind his own neck, his hands coming away holding either end of his slim gold chain. Fastening the clasp around her neck he stepped back and squinted critically at her.

"Better." He noted, then turned away to introduce Sir David to Ray and Chris and give the divtastic duo their final instructions for evening.

Alex allowed her fingers to trace the gold links around her throat, still warm from the heat of his body and allowed herself to inwardly exult that she was wearing something of his. His gesture had felt so very intimate even though they had been standing in the full gaze of hundreds of people. She ran her thumb along the length of the chain around her neck and dared to allow herself to believe that he felt something more for her than just professional respect. The gift had been so very personal after all.

Finally Gene finished his lecture and stood watching Ray and Chris escort Sir David into the ballroom.

Taking a deep breath he turned to the woman standing at his side and offered her his arm.

"Well, Bols. Shall we?"

Alex looked him straight in the eye and slipped her hand through his arm.

"Yes, Gene" she breathed, noting the hitch in his breath as she leaned in closer to him, allowing him to lead her away.

"Oh yes."

TBC


End file.
